


Nash Pines Like an Evergreen Forest

by orphan_account



Series: Nashie Pines [1]
Category: Bandom, Hot Chelle Rae
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nash has been quiet lately, hasn't tweeted, hasn't really been out with girls, or his friends, or anyone else. Still ON in front of the camera, always a professional when it comes to rocking out, he can always do the job, but he can't pretend anymore in private, he can't pretend anymore. Ry knows something is wrong, but Nash can't talk to him about this. He can talk to him about every fucking thing else, but not this. Not when Ryan doesn't feel the same way, can't feel the same way. Nash doesn't even know how HE feels, but he knows it's killing him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nash Pines Like an Evergreen Forest

**Author's Note:**

> So, up til now, we've been posting stories from our 'Ryan Never Stopped Looking' 'verse, but this story starts something a little bit different (and don't worry, we have lots of outtakes left to post/write in that 'verse.) 
> 
> This story basically started with H saying to J, "what if Nash likes RYAN first?" And J was all, ";laksjd;flkdjsf, YES, because he DOES." In this 'verse, the dynamic between our two boys is a little bit different, because of Nash having all the feelings first.
> 
> We started writing this on or around April 13 (judging by comments to each other in our google doc from that date), and at the time, we did not know the names of Ryan's and Ian's girlfriends. Ian's gf in this story is meant to be Maggie (and we eventually call her by name), but Ryan's gf at the beginning of this story is NOT meant to be Morgan, who we think is lovely and amazing, but this story is about Nash and Ryan. TYVM. :)
> 
> And we're dedicating this to our "little sister" R (chillingwiththeradioon.tumblr.com), because she's read everything we've written here, she loves these boys like we do, and we adore her. <3

Ryan’s on the phone with his girlfriend (who I’m assuming has a NAME, but who gives a fuck), and Nash is working on a song, and he can’t fucking concentrate when Ryan is using that voice. That low voice that Nash can practically feel vibrating through him, and he’s more than ten feet from Ryan right now. Far enough away that every time Nash looks up from the computer, he can see Ryan even when he’s not looking for him. And he’s still talking to her in that voice. It tears Nash up, and it makes him crazy, and it makes him think things. Crazy things like taking the phone out of Ryan’s hand, tossing it to the side, and holding onto Ryan’s hand. And just looking at Ryan until Ryan looks back. Moving his hand to Ryan’s wrist, and then up his arm to Ry’s shoulders, his neck.

He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut. What the fuck is the matter with him?

It’s _RYAN_.

And that’s the problem. It’s always been Ryan. Everything good about Nash’s life besides his family came with meeting Ryan, and since Ry is family now too, it’s like Nash can’t even have that separate. He goes home and Ryan isn’t even with him, and everyone asks about Ryan, and Nash knows they love Ryan, too, and it’s not like he wouldn’t be able to talk about Ry for days without stopping, but talking about Ryan when Ryan isn’t there to distract everyone makes Nash feel naked. Exposed. And his family KNOWS him, so he can’t hide a fucking thing. So he buries himself in the work, and the show, and having fun with their band, his favorite people ever. And the girls. There’re always girls who are willing and don’t ever notice Nash isn’t completely focused on them. They wouldn’t, because he’s very good at paying attention when he needs to. And it’s good, it feels good to be wanted. Sometimes it’s even great, but it never feels _right_.

***

Nash has been quiet lately, hasn't tweeted, hasn't really been out with girls, or his friends, or anyone else. Still ON in front of the camera, always a professional when it comes to rocking out, he can always do the job, but he can't pretend anymore in private, he can't pretend anymore. Ry knows something is wrong, but Nash can't talk to him about this. He can talk to him about every fucking thing else, but not this. Not when Ryan doesn't feel the same way, can't feel the same way. Nash doesn't even know how HE feels, but he knows it's killing him.

And one night everyone else is out, Ian is out with the other girl whose name I can't bother to even care about ever, but especially not right now (although obv they are very sweet and beautiful and probably spacy together in the best way possible but omg stop it), because they're home, and Jamie is out at a movie with his buddies who've stayed friends with him since middle school no matter what happens, and Ryan calls Nash and says he's coming over, and Nash says he's really tired and Ryan probably has plans anyway, and Ryan tells him he needs his friend. Ryan needs _him_. So Ryan gets there and tells Nash how he broke up with what's her name, and it punches Nash in the gut, knocks the breath out of him, not that Ryan is talking about her, Nash is kind of numb about that at this point. it's that he's afraid Ryan is really hurt, and he never wanted that. he wants Ryan to always be shiny and happy and if it's Ryan being in love with someone else, then Nash is okay with that.

But Ryan is saying how he's not really that destroyed over it. he was actually hoping to get some writing material out of a really awful breakup, but it wasn't awful. He's gonna miss what's her name, but maybe they can even be friends. He was the one who ended it, because she was great, really great, but he never felt the way he feels when he sings songs about love. 

And Nash is feeling lighter and better every second, because maybe he was just messed up over Ryan being with someone when Nash was alone, and he says, “Let's go out then, let's go get drunk and hit on hot girls. Call Adam and Tisha and they can meet us at Tin Roof.”

But Ryan isn't moving. "No."

And Nash is like, “What, somewhere else? Where?” And he gets up from the chair and sits on his bed to dig around in his bag for his phone where he’d dropped it when he hung up with Ryan before, and Ryan says, “Let's just stay in.” He looks tired, but not too sad, and Nash is still feeling great. Ryan's sitting over to the side of the doorway with his head back against the wall, and it's like Nash can't turn away. But he makes himself, and he leans over to pick up his stereo remote and finds the classical shit that Ryan loves when he's in a mood, and asks if Ry brought his guitar, and if he wants to work or just hang out, and Ryan opens his eyes, and he asks, “Have you ever felt that way? Like how it's supposed to be?”

Nash can't breathe for a second, but Ryan doesn't know, so it's okay, and he clarifies, “Like a love song?”

Ryan is still looking at him, hasn't looked away (haha, seriously, it's so Ry it works everywhere) and Nash looks down again, at the remote in his hands when he hears Ryan answer, "Yeah, like what we write, like our songs. Have you ever felt that way about a girl you've been with, or liked, or anything? Like, really? Not just thinking you're in love 'cause you want to get in her pants or up her shirt, but really in love."

And Ryan knows Nash hasn't ever, so he doesn't even answer. There was a girl Nash was crazy about when he was about 15, and there've been a couple since, but not like what they write about. Not like what Ee has with Maggie. Not like what Nash’s parents have. 

But when he raises his head, Ryan is still looking at him, with his head cocked to the side now, and he says, "you HAVE. Who is it? I knew something was going on with you, Nashie."

And Nash feels naked like when his parents and sisters talk about Ryan in front of him, except a thousand times worse, because of course Ryan can tell. Of course he can. But Ryan doesn't know.

Ryan's getting up on his knees, grinning now, and he crawls across the floor to Nash, being a friend, a super fucking friend, and Nash can feel his face burning, on fire. Because if Ryan touches him right now, Nash doesn't know what will happen.

So Nash stands up, and when Ryan goes to grab his hand, just to keep him sitting, Nash wraps his hands around the back of his own neck, physically holding himself together. He says, “I'm not-- there's not-- I wanna go out, let's go out, Ry,” and he doesn't even mean to halve Ryan's name like that, even though he does sometimes, but because his voice just stops, he can't say Ryan's whole name, or again, he doesn't know what he'll do.

And he convinces Ryan to go out, which is selfish, just disgustingly selfish, right after Ryan broke up with what's her name, but Nash can't help it, he feels sick with wanting to touch Ryan's fucking skin, and he needs to be around more people, lots more people. And all of the alcohol, definitely scotch, until he can't see Ryan looking at him with his eyes and his face and the cut-off neck of his tee shirt showing the words Ryan wrote about love.

Nash knows Ryan is worried about him, so of course they go, and Nash is feeling crazy reckless, and giddy with it, and he gets smashed drunk within thirty minutes of being at the bar, and Adam is even drunker once he gets off work and meets them there, and Nash is dancing with Tisha because he knows it makes every girl in the bar want to be next, and he lets them. Not just the girls either, he dances with anyone, and everyone. When he’s dancing with Adam, Adam tries to get him to sit down after, and maybe not have any more to drink, and Nash shakes him off, saying Adam should talk. Because Nash can’t sit down. He's way freer with just pretty much everything tonight. And every time he's still or he turns his head, Ryan's watching him. It makes him feel even drunker. So he closes his eyes or turns his head again, but no matter what, no matter how many people there are, no matter how many girls he flirts with, or worse, Ryan's eyes are all he sees in his head. His own fucking head is a fucking traitor. He hasn't taken it too far yet, with any of them, he is almost aware enough to know he would, it would be too easy to, and he's being TOO crazy, too free, and the band will have to pick up the pieces later, but he can't make himself care right now. He just needs to FEEL something.

***

It's two weeks after that night, and they're on the road again, and he's done a pretty good job of avoiding being alone with Ry, of having any kind of one-on-one conversation in person. He doesn't avoid being with him or near him, because that's stupid and just can't happen when they're on the road, on stage, on the bus, and because they're Nash and Ryan. And because no matter what, what's been true for 7 fucking years now, is that Ryan's his best friend. He knows Ryan probably feels shut out, but he also doesn't want to know what Ryan's been thinking when Ryan's been looking at him like he has been. Ryan knows him way too damn well. And Nash is almost physically sick at the thought of Ryan NOT knowing that it's Ry who has Nash twisted up this way. Ryan is one of a very few people in the world who knows Nash. Really knows him and still loves him. And Nash loves him for that more than anything else.

***

Jamie adores Nash. He grew up wanting to be just like Ryan, and then immediately started idolizing Nash when they started their band. And Jamie knows Nash is in love with his brother like he knows he can fit an entire cupcake in his mouth at once. He watches Ryan get a little unsure because Nash is less... _Nash_ lately, and Ryan is worried he's done something wrong, and Jamie thinks they're being kind of stupid. Because he likes it when everything is great and Nash and Ryan are acting like Nash and Ryan, so he finds a video of them from the show two nights ago, and Ryan's into the crowd the way he always always is, and he turns to Nash whenever he’s feeling it, the way he's always done it, like he used to sing on the front porch at home when Jamie was really little, and then grab one of the cats to join him. Ryan lives for the music and sharing it with people (and cats.) But what Ryan can't see is that when he goes back to singing into his mic, when he's got his hands wrapped around it and his eyes closed or is singing to the crowd, Nash is still looking at him. And Nash is careful. Jamie thinks Nash doesn't know when he’s doing it, because Nash never looks that long at ANYONE in particular when they sing. He does it on purpose because when he focuses, he focuses too much, and that's not good entertainment. He always makes eye contact, especially when people are taking pictures, never lingering. But Jamie has searched and searched until he’s found what he was looking for, so he can show Ryan. Jamie pulls the video up on his computer, stops it at the right spot, and goes to find his brother.

Ryan is working at his own computer, and when Jamie walks in, he looks up and grins, so excited to see someone, because Nash is hanging out in another room with headphones on, and Ryan says, “Come look at this mock up album cover a fan sent, isn't it great?” and Jamie nods, not looking at all, and then says, “Look at this.” Jamie sets his laptop in front of his brother's, leans over, and presses down on the trackpad to start the video where he had it paused.

He watches Ryan watch Nash watch him on stage, how Nash isn't smiling, how his face is almost yearning. Jamie sees Ryan's eyes go big and his hand come up to his face, and then Ryan shuts Jamie's laptop and sits up.

Jamie just gathers up his laptop and says, looking at the top of Ryan's head, "I thought you should know. I mean, I thought you should see it."

And Ryan is in a daze. _He didn't know. How had he not known?_

So instead of going to get a snack, or going to jump on Nash (literally, like a puppy, because that's what they DO) to like MAKE him talk, he stays in the room and before he realizes it, he's shut all the other tabs on his browser, and he's searching for that vid. When he finds it, he settles back down, grabbing a pillow from the headboard and holding it to his chest. Now he's thinking about all the other times Nash has watched him sing or talk, all the thousands and billions of times they’ve talked and laughed and stayed up all night working, but Ryan doesn't remember ever seeing that look on Nash's face before. So did this JUST happen?

No, he remembers that night. Oh god, the fucking night he broke up with what's her name (yeah, still don't care) and asked Nash if he'd ever been in love, and Ryan knew Nash was hiding something, but he just figured it was someone Nash really cared about and wasn't ready to talk to _anyone_ about it yet. And Ryan watched him that night, really worried Nash would do something stupid, and he couldn't figure out why Nash suddenly couldn't get enough of all the girls again, of the crowd, just throwing himself around and touching everything, everyone, all at once. Nash had been avoiding the crowds other than fans before and after shows or events (because Nash would never ignore a fan), so Ryan puzzled it out and thought Nash had finally fallen for real for someone and just didn't know how to deal with it, because he’s _Nash_. So Ryan let it drop and never mentioned that night, figuring Nash would tell him about it sometime, that eventually he'd tell Ryan because he always told Ryan everything. And now Ryan has to admit to himself that it hurt a little bit that it's been weeks since he asked, on a night when he was feeling pretty damn vulnerable himself, and Nash still never confided. Ryan puts his hand on his own heart. Pushes down, putting pressure where it's aching. He rubs, and the ache lessens a little, thinking he can imagine how fucking awful that must have been for Nash. Nash thinking he couldn't tell Ryan something. Nash avoiding touching Ryan lately, avoiding being alone with him. How long has this been going on?

He searches for more videos. Watches interviews and concert footage and even Ian's personal youtube page with "family videos" of the band just making asses of themselves all the time. It's everywhere, that look on Nash's face. Nash concentrating on Ryan, the way he never does when anyone else talks, and Ryan never noticed. Ryan looks at Nash a lot, too, he knows he does, but when he's on stage or in the interviews, he's so into the conversation with the interviewer or so into the crowd experience, he doesn't really ever stop to look. and Ryan never stops moving. It's very different from the way Nash is so still, but how Nash doesn’t ever commit himself to a conversation, is always looking around, so when Nash focuses like this, it's a huge tell. One Ryan would've seen if it had been Nash looking at anyone else that way, listening to anyone else talk, but it wasn't someone else.

Ryan's face feels hot. He feels way too hot. So he pushes up away from the pillow and stands at the window, holding his hair back off his face with one hand. He leans his forehead against the glass. Not cold enough. Maybe he doesn't feel _that_ way about Nash. But maybe he does. He doesn't know how he feels right now, except hot all over, and worried Nash is feeling so so so much worse.

He spends the next week or so avoiding being alone with NASH. Because Ryan can't be himself until he figures out how he really feels. He can't pretend he doesn't know now. The only time he feels okay is on stage, because then they can look at each other and feed off each other's energy, and it's okay, because it's _acting_.

Except he knows it's not for Nash, not just acting, and he knows it's not really for him either. Not anymore. And they can't go back to just being the way they were, so Ryan sticks to himself or when all of them are crashing together, until he can figure out a way to make it work now.

Because he loves Nash. Nash is part of his family, and their lives are so tangled up together at this point, that he knows they'll never not be around each other. He doesn't know how long all this will last, with the band, and their success, but it's in their blood, and things are really picking up now, and he can't believe he gets to do all this with his brother and his two best friends every day. And Nash is more than a best friend even. They joke about being life partners, and it's true, really. Life or longer. Ryan always liked that term anyway. He wishes everyone would use it. It's a really great way of looking at the person you choose to be with. It means more than just husband or wife, which can be really temporary labels these days. He's never heard of anyone saying, oh that was my ex-life partner.

So Ryan's been avoiding time alone with Nash, but he can't (and doesn't want to, doesn't ever want to) avoid being around him. No one else (besides fucking Jamie, and probably Chord, now that Ryan thinks about it, because Chord has been texting Nash more regularly than usual lately, and Ryan doesn’t think he’s asking advice about Amber) probably notices anything is different, because Ryan and Nash still goof around with each other, and when they're on stage, it's like Ryan is more alive than just being on stage has ever made him feel. That's always a high, but this is different, being able to touch and tease and flirt and it just looks like part of the show. And he's been noticing things he never thought about before. Like how strong Nash's neck is, or how perfect his cheekbones are, or how that tiny little cleft in Nash's chin gets deeper when he smiles. And it makes Ryan feel hot again, all over again, every time. And he wonders what Nash sees when he looks at him. But he can't imagine what it could be, and just the idea of Nash looking at him like he does in the videos Ryan can't stop watching, it just makes him feel even warmer.

But he still doesn't really know what this means, or how to just be Nash and Ry again, so he doesn't say anything. Yet.

***

Nash is so tired, like really fucking tired, and Ian and Jamie already took over one room, and Ryan's crashed out on the other bed now. Nash walks to the doorway, just looking at him, Ryan with his face mashed into the pillow and lying diagonally on the bed, one shoe still on. It makes Nash mad, how he's tired, and he should just shove Ryan over and sleep or he should grab a blanket and the other pillow and sleep on the loveseat in the entryway, but he can't, because he takes off Ryan's other shoe first, and he scoots Ryan's legs over, gently, not roughly the way he wants to. He's mad and he doesn't even know why. Because Ryan is asleep and not feeling like this. It's not _fair_ , Nash thinks. That Nash is the only one feeling like this. And he hasn't even had to worry about being alone with Ry, because he thinks Ry is avoiding him, or worse, just doesn't even want to spend time with Nash anymore. And Nash misses it. Misses Ry. Misses how much fucking fun they always have together. And how they used to sing so much more when they were working on a song, and working out the melodies and harmonies and it just flowed, but they've been so much quieter lately, and that's Nash's fault. But right now, looking at Ryan, seemingly so peaceful, he just blames Ryan. And Ryan's face, and his voice. And his lips and his hair and his shoulders and hips. _Fuck it_. Nash is suddenly too tired to even get that worked up about it. He stops fighting it. Once he has Ryan settled on one side of the bed, he strips out of his own clothes, keeping on his boxers and tee, and crawls in. He’s even missed this, he thinks as he stretches out, almost touching Ryan, feeling the heat of his body, breathing in the sleep smell, and fabric softener, and _Ry_. He's out in less than a minute.

***

Ryan wakes up in the middle of the night after crashing hard. He's still in his clothes from the night before, but his shoes are off. He doesn't remember removing them. He must have, though. Or maybe Nash did. Ryan smiles, thinking about Nash taking care of him. But it was probably Jamie, or else Ryan had kicked them off in his sleep. Or was so tired he just can't remember what he did.

He blinks. _Nash_. Nash who is about six inches away from Ryan right now. Nash is lying on his belly and his face is turned away, and his hair is sticking up on top. Ryan just lies there on his side, with his hands under his pillow, so he won't reach out. Looking at Nash, because it’s dark and he can, because he just feels good being this close to Nash for the first time in weeks when it's quiet and it's just them. His eyes follow the line of Nash's neck into the crumpled neckline of Nash's shirt.

It's true, he never felt this way about that girl he dated, whatever her name was. He never wanted to watch her sleeping. If he had, he would have probably felt like a creeper. When he stayed with her and woke up in the night, he always got out of bed and wrote, or texted his family, or played on tumblr. But with Nash he doesn't feel weird, even with how little they've been like this lately. It feels _right_ to be here.

Eventually, Ryan rolls over, turning so his back is facing Nash's, not quite touching, hoping to get a little more sleep before they have to get up, before they have to move again, before it's light out and the quiet is gone.

But now he knows how he feels about Nash. Knows he wants more, too.

Ryan falls asleep, still smiling.

***

Nash wakes up by degrees, and he realizes even with his eyes closed that he's pretty much wrapped around Ryan's back. They both have clothes on, Ryan more than him, so it's not like their skin is _bare_. Still, Nash can feel every muscle of Ryan's, and his body is getting warmer by the second, and oh god, this is bad. He pulls away moving the arm over Ryan's waist first.

He stops when he feels Ryan's hand on his wrist. "Don't go."

But he has to, he can't. He can't even look at Ryan. He used to be able to spoon or cuddle or wrestle with Ryan when it didn't mean anything, and even after it did, he was okay for a long time, but ever since that night when Ryan broke up with what's her name, and Nash couldn't answer him, and Nash went a little crazy, he can't just lie there and pretend he doesn't feel anything. Pretend that when he woke up he wasn't about to get hard right against Ry's back before he moved.

"I'm sorry, Ryno." And he sits up on the other side of the bed, his back to Ryan.

"It's okay, Nash. Nash, look at me; it's okay."

Nash freezes, because that’s the voice. It’s the low voice Ryan used to use on the phone with what’s her face that drove Nash fucking crazy. Nash closes his eyes and lets his head drop. He wants to stay frozen at least as much as he wants to turn around. The need to see Ryan’s face while he’s using that voice is what wins in the end. Nash braces himself with one hand on the bed, and turns.

Ryan is lying there, all stretched out on his back, half turned towards Nash. Ry’s still got on his jacket from last night, and his tee shirt shows all of his fucking love tattoo, and for a second, Nash can’t take his eyes off of it. Off of Ryan’s chest. And then he makes himself look up Ryan’s body to his eyes.

And Ryan sees Nash’s neck go red when Ryan tells him it’s okay. And suddenly, Ryan hopes he’s right, that it will be. He can’t breathe when Nash turns around and drags his eyes up to Ryan’s. Ryan wants to rub at his heart again. His breath catches at the expression on Nash’s face. Nash looks so hopeful.

Nash doesn’t know what to do, looking at Ryan lying there all heavy-lidded, looking at Nash, so he just asks, “What do you mean, it’s okay?” And Ryan says, “Okay so maybe I wasn’t there at first, but I’m here now.” And he reaches out to Nash, across the bed, and there’s just basically not anything else he can do but to go to Ryan. He turns around all the way, bracing himself on the bed with both arms and leans into Ry. He’s so close, and lying out next to Ryan, and then Ryan’s pulling at his neck, and they’re not kissing yet, but just breathing each other’s air and figuring out where to look when they’re that close, and all of a sudden they _are_ kissing. 

And Nash is... he just _is_. He can’t help it and puts his hands up, framing Ryan’s face. Oh my god, can he do this? He kisses Ryan once more just to tattoo the feeling of his lips and Ry’s together into his memory. He can save it for a rainy fuckin’ day, but he needs to see Ry’s face. Backing up, just tilting his neck, his face out of range. “What’s going on, Ry? Why now?”

He can’t not touch him while asking, his hands are in Ry’s hair, thumbs running over Ry’s cheeks. He’s only human and it’s Ry and they’re in a _bed together_ and it’s like something out of his....dreams. But he needs to know, Nash needs to know why, why now. 

Ryan isn’t really ready to let go of Nash’s face, or his lips, so he’s still touching, sliding his hands across Nash’s skin, his fingers on Nash’s bottom lip. “I don’t know, Nash. I really don’t know. Why didn’t you tell me how you felt? You can tell me anything.”

Nash balks. It’s his go-to. He backs away and Ry grabs his arms, holding tight. This is the bad part of being in love with someone who knows you, Nash thinks. Ry knows him backwards and forwards and every which way but this way. 

“Nash. It’s just me.” Ryan takes his thumbs and brushes them across Nash’s cheekbones.

No, it’s not, Nash thinks. “There’s no _just you_ about you, Ryan.”

He tries to regroup but he’s here, he’s in Ryan’s arms for fuck’s sake. Nash ducks his head, his forehead to Ryan’s chest. 

Ryan puts his hands in Nash’s hair, holding Nash’s head to his own heart. He presses his lips to the top of Nash’s head.

“Don’t...” Nash can hardly talk and he can hear how he sounds and it’s not right and not how he’s ever sounded in front of Ry but he can’t help it. “Just don’t...if...”

“If what?” Ryan moves his lips to the side of Nash’s face, tugging a little bit, so he can kiss the skin at Nash’s temple. Then the other side.

“Do you mean it?” It’s out before he can think about it. And it’s fuck o’clock in the morning and Ry’s got morning breath and he could give two fucks about it because Nash is pretty sure his breath is the same and all he wants to do is bury himself in Ry and forget about everything else but he needs to know...now. 

Ryan blinks and pushes Nash’s head back a little so he can see his eyes. “I’m kissing your face, and you’re asking if I mean it? You know I don’t do anything I don’t mean. Don’t I look like I mean it?” And keeping his eyes on Nash’s, he pulls his face back in and kisses him, tugging Nash’s bottom lip gently with his teeth.

“Did you lock the door?” Nash asks and then decides he doesn’t give a fuck if half the country walks in right then and moves in closer, so their chests are flush and buries his hands in Ry’s hair. He’s joking, ‘cause of fucking course he is. He locked the door last night. But, it’s not a joke because none of this funny. It’s more, everything. Ry’s lips. Ry’s face. Ry’s voice. _Ryan_. “Ryan,” he whispers - his voice tender and FOND - because he can. 

Ryan kisses the dip in Nash’s chin as he runs his hands down Nash’s back, gathering tee shirt material as he goes. “Nash.”

“Say it again,” Nash whispers. And then he doesn’t even wait for Ryan to answer before he braces his arms beside Ry’s head and kisses him again. Nash’s hands are in Ryan’s hair, fingers running through, slowly, softly. 

“Nash, Nash, Nash.” Ryan says, kissing Nash’s lips, jaw, neck in between words. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of Nash’s name. Nash’s skin. “Nash.”

It guts him. His name coming out of Ry’s mouth, past his lips, like that. Some part of Nash wonders if he’s still lying on the other side of the bed wrapped up in a dream that feels too real and he’ll wake up with the feeling of Ry’s hands on his arms still making his skin tingle fucking everywhere and it’ll be gone. Nash wants to put his hands everywhere on Ryan because if he is dreaming, Nash wants it all. Scooting down, Nash kisses those fucking love tattoos across Ry’s chest, rubbing his lips across Ry’s collarbone. 

Ryan's just trying to catch his breath, and he's kissing and touching every part of Nash he can reach, but he keeps getting distracted by Nash's lips and hands on his own skin. Ryan kind of can't believe this is happening, but he's afraid if he stops to think about it too much - fuck, like thinking's even possible right now - the bubble will burst and it _won't_ really be happening. So he keeps finding new places to kiss, bite, clutch, caress. Holding Nash as close as possible. Holding on.

“Jacket off,” Nash says, sitting up and pulling Ry with him because he can’t like not touch him now that he’s got the green light. He tugs and wrestles the jacket off all the while kissing Ry. Nash knows Ry mumbles something about it being a ‘blazer’ but he could really give a fuck less, growling against Ry’s mouth and pushing him back down on the pillows.

It's the growl that does it. Ryan can't get enough. He has his hand at the back of Nash's head, in his hair, tugging. And he's biting Nash's earlobe. Just the softest scrape of his teeth. And _tugging_. Because he's going for Nash's neck again next.

Nash has watched Ryan do a million different things over the years but having Ry all laid out underneath him looking like _that_ is just about enough to snap whatever fucking control Nash has left. And then Ry’s mouth on his neck and when Ry’s mouth finds his ear, Nash squeezes his eyes shut and blows out a breath like he’s been running laps around the arena instead of getting horizontal with Ry. “ _Fuck_ ,” Nash whispers. Ry’s mouth, lips, everything just feels so fucking _good_.

"Talk," Ryan gasps between kisses, "later." And he moves his hands down Nash's sides again, and back up, dragging Nash's shirt up, too, as he goes.

“Deal,” Nash says. He can feel Ry’s hands on his back, on his skin, and leans into it. 

Ryan doesn't even bother pulling Nash's shirt all the way up, or over Nash's head. As soon as skin is uncovered, Ryan's hands are running all over it. Gripping the muscles of Nash's back, Ryan continues pressing kisses everywhere his mouth can reach. Pushing aside the neckline of Nash's shirt with his chin, Ryan kisses Nash's shoulder, just holding his lips there for a minute, trying to remember to breathe.

Nash shivers. The muscles in his arms are literally fucking shaking with anticipation. Ducking his head into Ry’s neck, he tries to slow his body down, but Ry’s hands are everywhere, touching. Nash knows that Ry has just figured all of this out but Nash has been waiting for years. “Ry,” Nash whispers against Ry’s neck and then rubs his scruffy cheek along the soft skin there. He wants to say a thousand things like how he’d waited forever, how this feels fucking amazing - better than he’d ever dreamed, but Nash doesn’t say a word. Instead, he slowly tilts his head back and kisses at Ry’s temple, his cheek, his jaw, his neck and just pressing close-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

Through the fog, Ryan hears Nash's voice break on his name. He pulls back to look at Nash. Nash, who opens his eyes when Ryan takes his lips from Nash's skin, when Ryan's hands still on Nash's lower back. Ryan loves this face. Loves how Nash's eyelashes almost disappear unless you're this close. Loves how Nash's lips aren't quite closed, as he breathes in and out, above Ryan's chest. Ryan moves a hand up to Nash's face, just cupping Nash's jaw and running his thumb over the skin between Nash's mouth and ridiculous cheekbone. "You okay?"

Nash sighs deeply and turns his face towards Ry’s hand, kissing Ry’s palm. He can’t say he’s grateful or something just as stupid and girly but he is. He’s fucking elated that Ry’s got it figured out and they’re here together but part of him almost feels like crying from relief. He’s not alone in this anymore because Ry’s finally here with him. Ry, with the best fucking smile ever, who never sits still more than ten seconds, who makes Nash’s heart beat fast, who plays guitar back to back with Nash every night, who kisses his brother’s head like it’s no big deal, and who means everything to Nash. He can’t answer and just nods into Ry’s hand. 

Ryan doesn’t realize he’s mirroring Nash’s nod, and then he does, and he also realizes they have way too much clothing on. WAY too much. He moves his hand down to Nash’s chest and pushes. It’s gentle, but it’s a push, and Nash backs away, looking dazed, but still kinda grabbing at Ryan. And Ryan doesn’t take his eyes off Nash’s face, just raises up a little, lifts both arms to pull at the back of his shirt and tugs until it’s coming over his head. He shakes his hair out of his face and yeah, still looking right into Nash’s eyes. Nash sits up a little and tugs on his own shirt, rumpled from sleep and already askew thanks to Ryan’s hands, mouth, everything. And then Nash’s shirt is being tossed aside, too.

Nash is in boxer briefs, and Ryan has already felt how little they cover. He’s seen Nash bare chested and more naked than this loads of times, even though it’s Nash. But he’s never wanted to look at Nash this much before. He’s hyper aware of his own breathing, Nash’s breathing, every movement Nash makes. One of Nash’s legs slides up to bend at the knee, supporting him, and Ryan thinks it’s silly that they are just sitting, not touching. Ryan, still in his jeans from last night. But he can’t be bothered with the jeans right now, he just can’t.

“Why now?” Nash asks, again. And Ryan doesn’t really understand it himself, but he has to give an answer, because he knows, like he knows exactly how many pairs of Ray-Bans he owns, that this is important.

Nash looks like he’s about to grab at Ryan, bolt out the front door, or something else equally impulsive and _Nash_ , so Ryan reaches out, touching his fingertips to Nash’s chest, right over Nash’s heart. And then he’s leaning over, turning, laying Nash out beneath him. With Ryan’s hand still on Nash’s chest. He ducks his head and kisses there, just a press of lips, holding for a moment, and then looks up at Nash’s face again. “I woke up in the middle of the night,” he says, “and I just looked over at you, not creeping, not really, but thinking about how much I wanted to touch you.” He scoots up until his face is even with Nash’s and continues, “Touch you like this.” He trails his hands up over Nash’s shoulders, along his sides, to his hips, digging in just a little.

Nash feels out of control again. Like he has almost since this first started for him. It’s not really the answer he wanted, because this didn’t just start for Ry last night. Ryan’s been avoiding him for the past couple weeks, too. But Nash fills his hands up with Ryan’s skin anyway. Kisses Ryan’s neck anyway. 

And then Ryan is pulling away a little, tugging at the back of Nash’s head by the hair, to keep him from following. Nash feels dazed, drugged. He looks at the ceiling and tries to breathe.

“Jamie showed me a video of you looking at me,” Ryan says. And Nash can’t do anything but lie there with Ryan on top of him like he is. Because he can’t throw Ry off. He closes his eyes, and Ryan continues, “I never saw you look at me like that before.”

“Like what?” Nash says, croaks really. Because right now is everything Nash hoped for and feared all at the same time. Being exposed in every way possible.

Ryan feels out of breath with everything right now, but he slides one hand forward to stroke fingertips over Nash's cheekbones because he’ll never get enough of them, the way they deepen when Nash smiles and how they feel under Ryan’s hands when they kiss. Now he’s pressing with his other hand at the back of Nash’s neck to make Nash look at him when he says, "Like you didn't want to ever look away." Nash opens his eyes, and Ryan can breathe again.

Nash knows he has to get this right, because he _knows_ he hurt Ryan when he wouldn’t look at him or touch him unless they were on stage, and Ry didn’t deserve that. “I didn’t want to look away. I don’t want to, Ry. BUT I afraid to let you see it, because you didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t.”

Ryan wishes he had, or that he’d at least known that Nash had, because what Ryan is feeling right now is a lot more like what they write about when they write about love than anything he’s ever felt before. 

“That night--” Nash starts, but Ryan’s mouth covers his, stopping him with a kiss, and then he pauses.

“I didn’t know,” Ryan says, and his eyes look so sad to Nash, it’s like it’s that night all over again, pushing Ry away, dancing with every person in sight, drinking everything put in front of him, and more. 

But this time Nash can fix it, make that look go away. “I know you didn’t. How ‘bout this--” but Ryan interrupts him again.

“I don’t wanna talk anymore right now, Nash.”

“Me either,” Nash says, reaching up to put his hands in Ryan’s hair, on his face, around his back.

“I want to _feel_ ,” Ryan says. His face is flushed, and his eyes are glowing, and Nash’s brain is so fogged with lust right now, words are pretty near impossible anyway.

For the past couple of years it’s been a slow slide of denial to a few weeks before that night when everything went cold, because he suddenly couldn’t take it anymore, and then everything went hot and manic and out of control. And it’s been how he’s felt ever since then. Even when Ryan stopped trying to hang out with him alone off stage, when Nash thought Ryan had either given up, or suspected and chose to avoid Nash rather than reject him. Last night was probably the lowest point, really. So mad at Ry just for being innocent. This morning, everything’s felt manic again, Nash feels feverish with want, with need. With the words Ryan’s been saying.

But Ryan is taking control again, and Nash can’t get over how well they work together, even in this.

Ryan is really done talking, _really done_. They’d gotten the important stuff out of the way, and it’s painfully obviously they both want this. His hand slides between them, skating his fingers down low over Nash’s belly, pressing a kiss to Nash’s mouth again when Nash sucks in a breath. And Nash’s hands aren’t idle either. On Ryan’s hips now, pushing him away just enough to get at the button on Ryan’s jeans, and Ryan grins against Nash’s mouth, pulling away to bite playfully at Nash’s shoulder, moving, twisting to the side, to help get his pants off, away. 

“Why the fuck do we wear these fucking tight pants anyway?” Nash is half growling, half laughing, and then finally Ryan is throwing his jeans over the side of the bed, and his hand moves back to Nash. “No more talking, remember?” he says, his voice so low, so raw he barely recognizes it himself. Down over Nash’s boxers, and then inside. Nash’s hands still on Ryan, digging in, his neck arches, and he clenches his jaw. Ryan stretches up to kiss there, too, as his hand continues to move, to stroke, to give.

Nash comes undone, completely. It’s _Ryan_ ’s hands and mouth on him, and everything is getting frenzied again, but it’s finally the kind of crazy that feels so fucking _right_. He lets go of Ryan’s hips, where he’d be sure he’s left bruises if he could think at all. His hands grip the hotel sheets beneath them, and then his pillow behind him, and then back on Ryan when everything goes white and his ears roar, and Ry is softly kissing Nash’s neck, his shoulder. Nash’s erratic breathing might be embarrassing if it were anyone but Ryan, but it is Ryan, and maybe this, all of this, should feel weird, or at least surreal, but it doesn’t. 

So Nash takes a minute, Ryan’s arm curled around his shoulders, and then opens his eyes, looking into Ryan’s, and reaches up to cup Ryan’s jaw. This not talking thing is pretty fucking hot, actually, and that haunted look is nowhere near Ry’s eyes anymore, and Nash tries to convey what he’s feeling without words.

“Sorry ‘bout that whole not talking thing,” Ryan whispers, his voice still raw, and he’s kissing Nash’s neck again, and Nash can be a selfish bastard (really, I can’t see this at all, but who’m I to critique his inner post-orgasmic thoughts?) but not in bed (hahaha, this I can see, so giving, our Nashie. Okay, I’ll shut up now), so Nash turns until they’re both on their sides looking at each other, breathing the same hot air. _A little less talk and a lot more action_ , Nash thinks. _It’s a classic for a reason_. And he laughs a little, until Ryan is making a face at him, and he has to say, “It’s funny that not talking was your idea, because normally you never shut up, but that was amazing, you are amazing.” He kisses Ryan’s temple, mouths at his ear, and then trails his lips down to the place where Ryan’s shoulder meets his neck. His hands are on Ryan’s back now, and he wants to drive Ryan crazy the way Ryan’s been driving him crazy for months, years, and especially after the last however long they’ve been touching each other this morning. Because he’s completely lost track of time and space. 

He pushes one hand into the back of Ryan’s hair, kissing the words on Ryan’s chest, those fucking words he wrote about love. The only person Nash has ever felt that way about is Ry. It’s always been Ryan. He latches onto Ryan’s jaw with his lips, his teeth scraping, he kisses every tattoo he can see or remember, all the skin he can reach. Ryan’s hands are digging into Nash’s lower back, gripping Nash’s shoulder, and he’s making noises, deep in his throat that are about to kill Nash, but Nash keeps going. When he’s sure Ryan’s got his eyes closed and isn’t thinking at all, Nash yanks at his boxers, until he can touch more of Ryan. All of Ryan.

“Wait,” Ryan says, and Nash freezes, drags his eyes up. Ryan’s eyes are open again, and they’re so dark, and well, it’s the most beautiful fucking sight Nash has ever seen, Ryan all stretched out next to Nash, his skin flushed and sweaty from Nash’s hands and mouth. 

Ryan is about to come out of his skin. He’d tortured himself touching Nash, greedy with the need of Nash’s skin, wanting to show Nash how perfect this can be with them, and oh god, it’s perfect. Nash coming all unglued right in front of Ryan, _because_ of Ryan, opening his eyes after, just looking at Ryan with dilated pupils and that look on his face like Ryan had slain dragons and saved kingdoms. And fuck it all, Ryan felt like he had, getting through all those days of not touching Nash, replaying those videos of Nash’s eyes on him, knowing that Nash saw something Ryan was only beginning to see. And then waking up to Nash against his back this morning, to now, having all this access, yeah, he’s greedy as fuck.

Nash’s arms are still around Ryan, but he’s not _touching_ , and his smirk is gone, the redness leaving his flushed chest and moving up onto his cheeks. He’s looking at Ryan like he’s afraid to touch again, like maybe he’d gone too far somehow, and kind of not looking at Ryan at all. Ryan feels it in his heart, that hurt, but if that’s what Nash is thinking, he couldn’t be more wrong.

“No,” Ryan continues, trying to even his breathing while he can, “I mean, together. I need to touch you, too. Please.” The word itself might be hesitant, but he doesn’t say it like a question at all. He reaches behind him to pull one of Nash’s hands up, kissing the palm of it until Nash’s eyes gleam again. Keeping his eyes on Nash’s face, Ryan carefully slides Nash’s boxers off, and Nash grunts, still sensitive. Ryan soothes, kissing Nash on the mouth, and he looks down and then back at Nash’s face with a wicked grin. Then he’s pulling at Nash’s hips until they’re sliding against each other, legs tangling.

Ryan is running his hand over Nash’s bare hip and nipping at Nash’s shoulder with his teeth, and Nash is distracted momentarily, but now he’s reaching for Ryan again, because the fucker might think he’s not getting his chance to fall apart in front of Nash, but Nash can’t wait. He’s done waiting to be the one to make that happen. 

He watches Ryan bow his neck back, and he takes more, gives more. He leans in, pressing kisses along all that golden skin, not letting Ryan pull him closer, because he needs to see when Ryan loses it, needs it to be because of _him_. He cuffs a hand gently around the back of Ryan’s neck, the other easing around the jut of Ryan’s hip, gripping there for a moment, just because he can. Because he can finally touch and taste and look his fill. He kisses further down to Ryan’s collarbone, and then drags his mouth over to the other. Ryan’s hands on Nash’s sides clench, and Nash allows a smile, but doesn’t get distracted. He lays his lips at the base of Ryan’s throat, licks, and then sucks in a breath when Ryan rocks his hips into Nash’s. 

And Nash really can’t help it, he tried to be good, but he’s only human, and he knows Ry is beyond ready, so he slides his hand the rest of the way around Ryan’s hip to the front. Touching him in a way he’d never ever dared to even let himself think about before, he works Ryan into a frenzy all over again, and they ride it out together. There is little finesse, and a lot of grinding, but fuck if Nash cares if this is how anyone else would do this, because he’s got Ry flush up against him, and all of it feels better than anything else ever has. Because it’s Ryan. The last thing Nash sees before everything explodes behind his eyes is Ryan biting down on his own bottom lip, and Nash is damn glad Ryan can’t see him come apart all over again. 

Then they’re easing their hold on each other, and Nash is kissing the sweat-dampened hair at Ryan’s temple, and Ryan is dragging Nash’s head onto his shoulder, against his neck, and their chests are heaving, just trying to catch their breaths, and Ryan is whispering, “wow.”

Nash grins and tilts his head back so he can see Ryan’s face, and maybe to gloat a little, and Ryan has a fucking tear in his eye. “Ry,” he says, sighing on Ryan’s name a little, because god, what this man does to him, what he’s doing to him. “Don’t.”

But Ryan is smiling, glowing really. _He really is a jackass with that face_ , Nash thinks, but he’s still worried about that tear, or if it were anyone else, tears would be his cue to back up, back off, and put his clothes on. But it’s Ryan, and Nash has wanted this (or something like this, because if he had really known _this_ was possible, maybe he would have said something, done something sooner, to get them here) for more than, well, for a while, so he leans up and kisses the corner of Ryan’s eye. Ryan’s still catching his breath (and so is Nash), but Ryan says, “I wish I had known--”

“That was my bad, Ry. I couldn’t--”

“No,” Ryan says, gently, half-laughing, and squeezing Nash’s lips together like a duck’s bill.

“I wish I had known, because then we could have been doing this all along.” And he bumps his hip into Nash’s and gives that shit-eating grin he has that makes Nash want to smack him, punch his shoulder, and kiss his face hard, all at the same time. So he shoves at Ryan’s chest, knocks his hand away, and takes hold of Ryan’s face, his precious face. 

And then he’s kissing Ryan again like he’ll never stop, because he doesn’t want to.

Ryan feels like... like the sun pouring in through the window now is lighting them up from the inside. He’s just lying there all spread out on the hotel bed, like he never wants to move from here, from Nash. Nash is lying half on top of him still, and it’s good. It feels so fucking good to lie under Nash’s weight, to be sated like he’s never felt before. Eventually, he knows they’ll have to get out of bed, put on clothes (if they can find clean ones, or not because who cares), and go out to whatever meetings they have today. Ryan is sure Nash knows what meetings they are, and if he doesn’t, Ian will, and if Ian doesn’t, that’s why they have Jason and Dave. 

But now he can’t think anymore, because Nash is pushing at him and grabbing his face, and god, the feel of Nash’s lips on his. He tugs at Nash, pushing his hands up along Nash’s back, getting drunk on Nash’s skin all over again, sucking on Nash’s bottom lip and when Nash groans into Ryan’s mouth, Ryan drags him even closer.

Nash breaks away, kisses Ryan’s forehead once, and okay, again, because why not, and grins down at him. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

But Ryan knows now, knows all of the places that make Nash burn brightest, and he digs his fingers into Nash’s lower back and mouths at Nash’s shoulder, watching Nash’s eyelids flutter closed and he drops his head into the crook of Ryan’s shoulder and whispers, “I give.”

***

Loving Ryan is different, not only because this part is new, but because they already know each other, and things aren’t always perfect. With lives like theirs, they rarely have time for anything other than a quick cuddle or a quickie in the shower when everyone else is off the bus, but sometimes they get hotel rooms, too, when time and budget allows, and it’s like relearning each other all over again.

And it's like a drug, being on stage together, it always has been. A total high, and Nash never feels it more than when they start up Emo. He loves the way Ryan describes it, he loves the way he knows they're both remembering how it felt when everything slid into place with them. With their writing, with the first feeling of what they could be together, as a band, as partners, at least musically. It was heady, and he feels it every time. Sometimes he stalks Ryan across the stage, sometimes he raises an eyebrow. Always, he grins. And ever since they've been together. _Together_ together, the feeling has only intensified. When he watches Ryan talking to the crowd, getting them into it, he can only see Ryan's profile, but it reminds him of Ryan in bed, when he wakes up in the middle of the night and looks over at Ryan. Or when he's been up longer and crawls in next to Ryan. When he gently turns Ryan and spoons behind him, or when he's just about to wake Ryan. Ryan who sleeps so peacefully for a guy who never stops moving when he's awake. When the music finally starts, it's only been a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, but it always feels like a buildup. Like the buildup to what their music is now, what the band is now with Ian and James added in. Or the buildup of the final hours before they found out they were signed. The buildup to getting that tattoo, dragging Ryan with him, Ryan getting one too, and then Ian and finally Jamie, all of them together. The buildup of knowing Ryan for six years before their first real taste of each other. After the buildup, they're facing each other, playing to each other. Coming together. Yeah, it's heady.

It’s how it is everytime off stage, too. Nash is a lucky guy, and he knows it. Now he looks over, and Ian is edging around to Jamie’s drum set and then they’re walking backstage, Ian’s arm slung around Jamie’s shoulders, cell phone already out for the #midsettweet and #midsetiloveyou to Mags, and Nash looks at Ryan looking out at the crowd, telling them an extremely edited version of how they first met and how they got to this point, and Nash starts walking. Walking towards his guy. One foot in front of the other, never taking his eyes off the prize, grinning, because this is the most fun they can have with their clothes on.

Finally Ryan looks up, and it’s game on.


End file.
